Almost
by enchanted-mind
Summary: Oneshot. When Jasper left the house for those few minutes he was reminded of life's cycles. That broke him down to this… this 'never pleasant' old habit of his. Now Alice doesn't know what she can do. Nobody does.


"What are you going to do?" Edward asked.

Alice sat on the bottom step of the staircase and heaved a sigh. She knew Edward was talking to her; he was probably roaming her head too. But then again, what member of the family was not talking, or at the very least, thinking, about it?

"Nothing." She whispered. "It's his choice."

Edward nodded his head infinitesimally - it was probably the best option.

There was something wrong, they knew it. Everyone knew it. Jasper only ever did it when something was bothering him. And when Jasper gets depressed, you know it's bad.

He is always the one who stays in check of his emotions - his existence requires it. Depression, sadness, anger… he never dwells on negative emotions in fear of injecting it upon others around him. Sure, he gets out of hand when he is with Alice, but that is love – a positive emotion. It's healthy for him.

Edward knew, though he would never say it, that that was the reason Jasper tended to suddenly spiral into flooding pools of despair. He keeps everything bottled up, out of respect of everyone, and it just gets too much.

The worst part is that he looses the ability to be coherent - and Edward cannot help Alice find out the problem. His head just swirls with random thoughts that have no connection other than the fact Jasper is thinking them. When that happens, you know it will be sorted out soon and it will be okay, it's just one of those days.

But other times, on very rare occasions, instead of incoherent swirling there is nothing. Not even an echo if you were to yell. He just shuts down; he doesn't focus on the family whispering about him… he barely even notes the cigarette he pulls from his mouth every now and then. When he smokes, you know it is bad; it's something that he will never really recover from.

Today was one of those really bad days.

Twice, in all his existence, Edward had now seen Jasper smoke, Alice said now three times for her.

Poor Alice, she didn't know what to do. She didn't know whether to leave Jasper or comfort him; which would have the better outcome? And Edward couldn't assist in the decision – at all. Jasper had absolutely no thoughts what-so-ever.

Alice let out another dainty little sigh and stood up. She had decided to talk to him – an outlet between comforting and running.

Edward knew they would want a little privacy – as much that was possible in their household – so he whisked himself upstairs to see what Bella was doing.

At a dreadful, normal human pace, Alice made her way to the back door. It barely made a sound as she drew it open.

There he stood. Sad and deprived.

Alice stood in the doorway watching her husband coil into a not-unfamiliar reverie of depression. She watched him draw the cigarette from his mouth and blow the smoke into the crisp, damp air. She watched in helplessness.

Jasper stood on the back porch, in the far corner, leaning over the railing. Perfect in all his beauty, except the pain etched on his face – it was only further illuminated by the moonlight. Slowly he looked down at his hands and brought the lit cigarette back to his lips, not even acknowledging his wife who closed the door behind her.

He just stared out into night, into the dark forest, and then temporarily distorted the scenery with a breath of toxicating smoke.

Alice came over and slid onto the railing a distance from Jasper. But she did not say anything. She watched her motionless hands in her lap, and concentrated on her even breathing pattern.

Suddenly she turned her head to him. "Why do you do that, Jasper?" she whispered.

Jasper didn't answer. He only drew the cigarette back up to his mouth, inhaled slowly, then exhaled and finally replaced it back to his mouth.

"Why do you smoke?" she asked again a little softer. "I know you do it when there is something wrong, but why turn to smoking?"

He still didn't answer. Jasper took the cigarette from his mouth, in between his fingers, and hung his head.

"Why do you do it?" she pressed, a little exasperated. "It can't possibly be good for you."

That sparked a reaction. "Good for me?" he hissed, "Nothing in this world can harm me, Alice! It's always the same day-in and day-out…" he snorted humourlessly, "But really, who can tell these days? What defines the timeline of day and night? Sleep? Age? Humans? Well guess what? We kill them. No matter how many bad things I do, nothing can make me sick. Nothing will ever change!"

Alice sat very still and quiet, her eyes still glued to Jasper, trying to avoid another outburst.

"Is that what this-" she gestured to his occupied hand "-is all about?"

He just drew the cigarette back up to his mouth, remaining unresponsive and detached.

"Does this make you feel human? Make you feel like you can be fragile in the same ways they are?" Alice methodically questioned. She wasn't sure what all the rambling meant – whether he was referring to something, or if it was some sort of epiphany he had, she didn't know. And he didn't respond to questions.

"Do you do it because you used to when you were human… do you do it because you find it relaxing… do you do it because you just want to? Jasper!" she desperately pleaded. "Just talk to me!"

He didn't even move, didn't twitch, didn't speak... He just watched the smoke drift away along the wind.

The tension was building; Alice was no emotion reader, but she could tell that it was not coming from her.

"Well I for one think-"

"You want to know why?" Jasper barked. His jaw tightened as he for the first time that evening looked fiercely at Alice and snarled, "Because it's just as _foul_ as it ever was!"

Jasper was a scary person to behold when he was angry, make no mistake.

"It tastes just as foul as it ever did." He repeated, chuckling darkly as he laughed the words humourlessly. "It tastes exactly the same," he said looking down at the cigarette burning in his hand. "It was never pleasant... It's the only thing that's still the same… exactly the same."

The way the smoke filled your lungs, the way it filled your mouth with an unpleasant sharpness, the way you were left feeling afterwards was no different.

When the transformation from human to vampire occurs, a lot of things change. You stop eating like a human, you live off blood instead. You lose all body heat and become ice cold. You sparkle better than any rare diamond in the sun. You lose a functioning heart – it just sits there not beating, serving no purpose. You lose the ability to age, to die, to be hurt or get sick. You lose self-control and become a slave to your instincts. You even lose the necessity to breathe. Basically, you lose everything that defines you as a human, because you are no longer one. After a few centuries it is almost inevitable that memories fade, no matter how ardently you wish to keep them. And along with the memories goes the ability to compare; to be able to relate to happenings involved in a typical human's life.

But smoking – that was something Jasper was happy to forget, but couldn't. It was something that brought back the memories. War, blood, dead bodies, more killing, gunfire… It was the one thing he found to be the same. Not pleasantly, but still no different. It made no difference if he ate a salad for dinner, or animal blood or if he could grow old or not – the taste and the feeling it gave was no different. His transformation made no difference.

That was concrete proof, to Jasper at least, that vampires were not meant to be. If all he was entitled to have the same as a human was the way smoke tasted when it filled his useless lungs. If they could not retain good human memories, only bad ones, and if all they could have were foul similarities, then it was a way to be punished. A way to be punished for existing.

He honestly did not blame the person who decided that.

Smoking was a way of showing that there is one thing in common between vampires and humans – the taste is nasty on both sides. Though a strawberry or chocolate no longer held their once desirable tastes, the smoke still filled his lungs the same way, the smoke still tasted the same. Horrid. It was a way of showing that though he couldn't die, get sick or be hurt he still had an undesirable connection between him and the human world. It reminded him of what he was, but at the same time made him forget.

In other words, punish himself.

"So… Because it's the same as it was when you were human?" guessed Alice, a little wary of her husband's fragile state. Would he have an outbreak? She didn't know because he didn't know. And that frightened her a little.

Jasper snorted and stared out at the forest as he spoke. "We can't feel human." He simply said.

Humanity really wasn't Alice's area of expertise; she didn't know what to say. So she didn't.

The wind drifted by, the leaves in the trees rustled a little.

The crickets chirped; they were the only ones talking.

The owl in the forest sang his hunting call.

Alice leant up against one of the dividing poles spaced evenly around the porch, and curled up into a protective ball. She watched the smoke contaminate the air, smothering the scenery. She did not like the fact that it came from Jasper.

"Jasper, you know you always have me. Why turn to this? Is it more adequate than me?" Alice asked. Honestly, she was a little offended. Jasper had chosen to turn to something that could be bought at a shop rather than her, his wife, in a time of need. They were small and insignificant, so what did that make her? And furthermore, he said that he would not break down again after the last time, he would have no need to smoke again. That last time was truly scary.

"No…" he finally answered.

"So… what? You find smoking more comforting than me?"

"No." he said. Jasper was getting a little irritated with the insecurities. He knew where this was going; she thought he didn't love her anymore – that he liked smoking better than her. That wasn't true, but he found it hard to justify. Sometimes you just get so sick of everything that's constantly around you.

"You find them more understanding?" she asked sarcastically, matching his irritation.

He sucked in an audible intake of air and tightened his jaw. "Right now? Yes." And it was true. Alice just couldn't grasp what Jasper tried to convey. It wasn't that he liked smoking, it wasn't that he found a great solace within it, it was because it was foul. It was horrible when he was human, and still was now – and that was the only thing, in his eyes, that remained the same. The only thing he had the same as a human was the way a cigarette's smoke tasted within his body. That was the only thing he was entitled to – something horrible. And it never changed. That was all he deserved, and tasting the smoke only reminded him of it all. It was like a reality check.

Alice recoiled a little from Jasper's response. Though she knew it was impulsive, it still hurt.

She was trying to figure out why he had had this sudden outbreak. There had to be a cause. This morning Jasper had been just as content as usual, not overly joyful, but nowhere near dismal, and now he was a wreck worse than Alice had ever seen him in.

"Jasper," soothed Alice's soprano wind chime of a voice. "…Jasper, what brought this on? You were fine this morning… You didn't leave the house, you didn't watch TV, you obviously didn't go hunting if you didn't leave the house," she counted off the possibilities on her hand, "so you can't have seen anything. You spent pretty much all morning with me – and we didn't do any talking… the only thing you did do was bring Carlisle's bag to work for him that he left behind – oh, well, I guess that means you did leave the house… But what could possibly have happened in the few minutes you were out?"

She looked over at the forever silent Jasper and waited. She knew she had struck a chord; hit a nerve… whatever you wanted to say. Jasper just hung his head, eyeing off his interlocked hands. He took in a deep jagged breath and turned his head up to the shelter roof. If vampires could cry, he would be.

"Three people…" he breathed. "Three people died in that hospital while I was there. One was just fifteen… Five children were born in that hospital while I was there."

Jasper tilted his head forward, "lives ending and beginning… so many changing… families rejoicing, families mourning. I'll bet that none of those people have murdered."

Slowly he tilted his body to face Alice and held his own weight. "I was reading the paper today – when I went to the hospital…" he whispered. "Front page story was about that murder in Mississippi… the victim was practically a saint. The people interviewed always went on about him never hating anyone, never causing anyone sorrow, never lying, always a do-gooder. Alice, I've lied. I've murdered. I've stolen. And I don't get sick, I don't die. Nothing ever changes. No matter what I do, no matter how bad… It's the same thing. Why abstain from my nature, when I will not pay? No matter how evil I become, nothing can refrain me. And that will never change."

"Jasp-" cried Alice, but he cut her off with a single raised hand.

Jasper spun around and left his back to Alice.

"I just…" he choked out; he contemplated the best way to say it.

Alice saw it. Each way he decided to rephrase, she saw.

Though each combination of words was different, it still emphasised the same thing. He tried to put it delicately, yet firmly so there was no confusion.

Nothing was changing the way he was, the way he was living his life. He wondered, nay, knew, different things would lead to different places. What would it all be like?

"I need to leave… _I_ need to go away." He simply said. He didn't turn around; he didn't put any emotion into his voice. That is what scared Alice the most.

He made it very clear; _only_ he would be the one leaving. He didn't want Alice to come with him, not this time. She knew that.

Jasper knew what he wanted and how to take care of himself. And she would not fight that.

What was he going to do? He hadn't decided. But returning home to her never came into the future.

Alice bit her lip, controlling the argument that threatened to flood out of her mouth, and nodded her head.

"Okay," she whispered and sucked in a little breath. "Come back when you're ready."

He simply nodded, staring into the dark.

No hug. No eye-contact. No kiss. No 'I'll be back soon'. Not even an 'I love you'.

Then he was gone.

Now what did leaving entail?

Would he buy a new car? Dye his hair? Kiss another girl? Go back to the traditional hunting style? Start a new life? Without Alice?

Start a new life. Alice was sure of it.

There was a new life; a new car, a new girl… an old way of surviving.

Jasper knew Alice would see these things he contemplated doing… starting a new life, he believed the correct term was… A new life… without Alice, without anyone – that was quite hard to even contemplate.

Alice didn't want to keep looking into the future. She didn't want to see the certainty of it all. She knew Jasper well enough.

This is what he wants, she told herself.

She went and sat on the top porch step and stared up at the moon. Jasper just needs some time to think, it's what he does.

She counted seconds in her head, 154, 155, 156… then shooting stars in the sky. She memorised the way the grass swayed slightly in the breeze. She even translated the book she was reading for school into French. She did it all without moving. It felt like eternity, like the world was in slow motion giving her time to grasp everything. But never once did she turn to her visions. She didn't need to see the life he was starting without her.

"Fifteen…" she whispered, counting off the small streak of light that flared across the dark sky. "Sixteen…"

Alice was too distracted by nothingness to hear the footsteps approaching. They weren't loud, not at all, but she would have heard them if the proper attention was paid.

"Alice?" Jasper whispered.

She released her head from the confinement of her hands to look over at the man that had called her name. It had been too long since she had heard him talk, too long to be away from him. She missed him, longed for him, craved him. But why did he come back?

A new life is no good without love, without your true love with you. It's only an almost-life because you don't really live in it.

Jasper sucked in a breath, his eyes, his perfect eyes, were stained. Tormented, in a way. Longing in another.

Obviously he felt the same.

"I've had enough of my new life."

* * *

Strange, I know. But this story came to me when I was supposed to be studying maths (oops!) and it kept plaguing my mind until I wrote it down. Hope it wasn't too crummy, but then again, anything with Alice and Jasper can't possibly be bad...  
Read and review! Thanks. 


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